


Samson

by delirias



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 20:53:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15324093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delirias/pseuds/delirias
Summary: Sirius ditches his glorious man-bun for a douchebag haircut.Probably, because he's in a struggling alt rock band or most likely, becausehesimply can.Could be the hair, or his charm, or that she's learning a familiar feeling she chose to forget.





	Samson

**Author's Note:**

> Checked my archives and found this. Hope you like it!

_She had never really noticed him until he cut his lovely hair._

_All of Georgia’s memories of him before she saw him playing at the pub she frequented about six months ago were of him having his hair tied back. He grew it out in a rock star fashion yet never went out without his hair in a man-bun so she never figured out how long he grew it. They saw each other a lot when they were growing up because he was always at a gig somewhere playing with his band. They never really talked because he would be playing his guitar on stage and she’d always be somewhere in the crowd nodding appreciatively. She knew his name because he was the brother of an acquaintance of hers, Regulus. Their parents knew each other from some charity they both helped. She was closer to Regulus but they never really talked about his brother since there was no reason why they should._

* * *

 

It is a Friday and Georgia always likes the bands that played during Fridays because it was when the good bands played.  Or at least, she likes to think so.

This certain Friday was a trainwreck. She just had a horrid Calculus test and luckily, her friend Mandy invited her out for some drinks. Georgia thinks that it didn’t matter whether she passed or failed the exam, she just needed a good reason to get drunk. Mandy goes to the bar to order something so Georgia passes time by surveying her surroundings.

She has a habit of watching people. She doesn’t stare because she knows it would be rude. She observes them in a polite manner and tries to guess a story about them: why were they at the pub or what kind of work they probably did. Basically, her attempt to gauge her inner detective skills. Although she does not know the level of her success, she just naturally finds people interesting.

Mandy isn’t back yet and by the looks of it, she was taking her time to flirt with the bartender, it was only then when she notices the band playing.

She has a feeling she knew them from somewhere but she couldn’t quite put a finger on it yet. The band seems like Regulus’ brother’s band but the only problem was Regulus’ brother wasn’t in it. Instead of his brother, there was a guy with cropped hair playing the electric guitar. The absence of the rockstar-esque long-haired lead guitarist is disconcerting.

She furrows her brows in confusion.

She was pretty sure this was the band she grew up listening to in her parents’ charity concerts. The only difference was they have more tattoos and they changed their guitarist for some unknown reason.

She finds herself initially puzzled at the reason why Regulus’ brother left or had been kicked out of his band. Their band was together since college and they were really good friends from what Regulus’ parents would mention at charity dinners.

After a while, she notices that the guitarist slung his head back the same way Regulus’ did. He also moved his shoulders with the beat in the distinctive way he did. Odd, the guitarist seems more and more like Regulus’ brother by the minute only he _wasn’t_ Regulus’ brother. It doesn’t occur to her that his would cut his hair off. He has been growing it long since forever and she didn’t really see any reason why he would cut off his lovely hair.

Finally, Mandy is back from flirting with the bartender and brings two cocktails with her. It was typical for Mandy to bring Cosmopolitans instead of Beefeater on the rocks from a chat with the bartender. She always had this way of being extra girly whenever it came to post-flirting drinks.

“Sorry, Georgia. I got caught up.” Mandy says as she put the drinks on the table and smoothens her hair as she sat.

Georgia takes a drink as a sign of silent agreement.

“It’s no problem, really.” She looks at the direction of the bartender Mandy spent the past couple of minutes with. “He’s pretty cute.”

Mandy shakes her head and smiles. “Hey, it’s Friday and we just got out of a terrible Calc test. I need to destress, you know.”

“For all it’s worth, here’s to a night of not caring about that god-forsaken test and let’s make sure no glass is left untouched.”

“Cheers! To a fun Friday night with Mandy and Georgia.”

And with that, they clink their glasses against each other and down the contents.

* * *

 

Georgia and Mandy are properly buzzed by the time the vocalist of the band announces that it is their last song. Quite interestingly, one thing Georgia liked about this particular pub was that there were a few good bands who, very much to her liking, played longer sets.

She and Mandy are caught up in their conversation involving Mandy’s theory that their Literature professor was sleeping with one of their classmates. Mandy’s theories were mostly just her attempts to milk gossip from people and this particular one was a tad bit more scandalous than her previous ones.

“I’m telling you, Professor Snape and _Pansy_ have frequent after-class _sessions,_ if you know what I mean. Well, that is, you would if you had been listening these past five minutes when I divulged the contents of the texts I saw on Pansy’s phone the other day.” She pauses to check on Georgia’s reaction. “Hey, Georgia. Are you even listening to me?”

Georgia hasn’t even realized that she has blanked out. She has a nagging sensation in her head that liquor couldn’t shake off. _Maybe it’s just that goddamned Calculus test messing with me,_ she thinks.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to.” She says hastily and goes back to observing the guitarist.

“ _He’s_ pretty cute.” She points her drink toward the direction of the guy whom Georgia was staring at. “You should talk to him since it’s pretty obvious you want to shag the living daylights out of him.”

“Dear god, no!” Georgia blushes at her friend’s frankness. “Unlike you, my dear Mandy, not every boy I look at is a boy I’d like to shag. This particular one happens to be quite a mystery and has caught my interest,” she replies haughtily, trying to hide her embarrassment.

Mandy scoffs. “By interest, you mean a sincere blowjob down the alley after their set is done, yes?”

“No, _no_ , Mandy. Let me explain.” She pauses to collect her thoughts because she knew she was about to sound ridiculous and she wasn’t drunk enough to be ridiculous yet. “He looks a lot like my somewhat-friend’s brother who happens to be a member of the band that’s about to end their set. The only problem is he’s not part of the band anymore.”

“Well, that doesn’t really sound like much of a problem.”

“I haven’t gotten to the important part yet. You see, I’ve been observing the guitarist and I have a feeling that he is Regulus’ brother. But he doesn’t have long hair and let me tell you, Sirius has always had long hair. So it doesn’t really make sense that the guitarist pretty much adds up to Sirius’ profile except for the hair part.” Georgia says breathlessly. 

“Geez, Georgia. It’s just his _hair._ So what if he cut it? Maybe that’s what alternative rock guitarists do nowadays.”

“It’s not just his hair. Mandy, we practically grew up together! Well, of course I’ve never talked to him because he’d always be playing on stage during charity dinners and whenever he wasn’t playing he’d be chatting with his mates. The main point is he’s always had long hair!”

She practically shouts the last part which made some of the people nearby turn their heads towards them.

“Okay, okay. I didn’t think him cutting his hair was that important to you. Why don’t you go talk to him when they’re done?”

 _Yeah because it’s just so easy for someone like you to chat up guys_ , Georgia thought to herself.

“I’ll pass. You’re right, it’s just hair.” Her voice fails to mask her disappointment.

* * *

 

The night somehow encourages Georgia to down her third Sex on the Beach and fifth mango mojito. She is starting to realize that she can’t feel her face anymore and that the world is turning more slowly than usual. She smiles to herself and mentally pats herself on the back. She feels she is already successful in forgetting about her horrible Calculus test and a particular guitarist with a lovely head of hair.

She stopped looking at him after her second mojito. She proceeded to fuel her disappointment with her go-to cocktail, Sex on the Beach. She didn’t bother with the name, she just found it really good. In the meantime, Mandy manages to slink her way back to the bartender and Georgia was all alone. The table seemed so lonely with her just in it and a small army of empty cocktail glasses littering the top.

“Classy, aren’t you?” A voice from beside her interrupts her train of thought.

Georgia looks around and sees the person she least expected to talk to her that night.  

He puts down a glass of water in front of her.

“Ah-- _what_?” For some reason, he takes her unintelligible response as an invitation to sit close to her.

“I said, classy taste in poison. You’ve had too much, I think. So drink up.” He motions to the empty glasses in front of her with his hand and pushes the glass of water towards her direction.

She was still dumbstruck and just keeps her mouth closed.

He grabs one of the glasses and sniffs the insides of it. “Sex on the Beach?”

“Yeah, it’s good for you. But, hey, I won’t drink whatever is in that glass.”

The stranger who didn’t seem like Sirius frowns.

“It’s just water. You need to slow down with the drinks. You’ll get proper hammered and I’ll have to bring you home.”

“I’m not drinking questionable liquids from a stranger, just so you know. Nothing personal.”

“You don’t know who I am? We grew up together, Georgie.”

 _Georgie._ Only people from way back called her by that name. Maybe he _is_ Sirius.

“Sirius?”

The stranger clucks his tongue and laughs. “Of course, blondie! Who else would I be?”

“But your lovely hair is gone. You can’t be Sirius. Sirius always had long hair in a manbun, not some douchebag undercut.” She motions at his hair.

He laughs again. “My lovely hair, _darling_ , will always be lovely no matter what the length. Length isn’t always wealth, it’s all about… _fit._ ” He gives a knowing smile and takes a long drag from his cigarette.

* * *

 

Sirius checks his pockets for the Sharpie. It was a running joke with his mates that girls would line up to him to ask to have their boobs signed. Sadly, he was wrong. It’s well past midnight and he’s sure no one but Georgia (he _hopes_ ) will get their boobs signed. Right now, with the amount of alcohol she’s had, the only thing that’s for sure is that he is annoying her.

He has a reputation to uphold so he says, “Georgia, I’d like to see you again.”

She stops drinking her mojito.

“I’d like to see you again.” He repeats. He takes her hand and slides out the Sharpie from his back pocket and opens the cap.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m writing my number down so I can see you again.”

“What makes you think I _want_ to see you again?”

“I just know. You’ve been staring at me the whole night.”

Her cheeks flush indignantly. “You keep telling yourself that. But I really wasn’t. I told you I was figuring out if you’re the same person as Sirius.”

“And I am! So, Georgie, don’t make this hard for the both of us and just admit you want to see me again.”

She takes another sip and looks at the thinning crowd of pub-goers. “What makes you think I want to see you again?”

He looks at her and puts the cap back on the Sharpie.

“Don’t look too disappointed, Sirius. I know you don’t get rejected a lot.”

“You’ve been doing some research on me, then?” He twirls the Sharpie with his fingers and it annoys her.

“No, but the ladies in this room haven’t stopped making eyes at you all night so I’m guessing you’re pretty marketable.”

“Oh, don’t be jealous, Georgie. I spent the whole night with you, isn’t that enough?”

“Fair enough.” She grabs the Sharpie from him and unscrews the cap.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

He writes his number on her palm and maybe it was only his excuse to touch her. Maybe this was his chance after all these years.

* * *

 

_The lads don’t know what to call themselves. They’ve been having beer and brainstorming about it every Thursday for the past month. Still nothing._

_Sure, they should be worrying about exams and evading trips to the dean’s office for “questionable” behaviour. But band names were more important. Heck, the band was everything at this point._

_Their gigs turned from playing at their stuck-up parents’ charity balls in college to going underground at Drew’s every Friday. The thing is, once you’ve made it at Drew’s, you can make it in all the other indie pubs._

_“Gentlemen,” Remus says, standing up and raising his cup of beer. “Our current suggestions are ‘Romanova’ and ‘The Ugly Boy Gets the Girl.’ What say you?”_

_Sirius sips his beer tentatively. “I reckon pushing for ‘The Marauders.’ I just want to piss off some parents during charity balls. They wouldn’t believe how many girls I get after every set.”_

_Laughter fills James’ garage. “Too true, good sir! Too true.”_

_“I reckon ‘Romanova’ sounds too much like any other band name. We need to set ourselves apart. Sirius is right. Us ugly boys do need to get laid,” Peter, the bassist, quips._

_Before the predictable arguments start being fired across the table, James pounds his fists on the table like a gavel and says, “Well, lads. Let’s now celebrate this glorious moment.” He runs to the microphone and shouts, “We are The Marauders. Goodnight!”_

* * *

 Georgia stumbles back to her apartment after Mandy drops her off. Between the two of them, it was Mandy who was sober enough to drive and to bring Georgia home.

The world was slower but and her memories were clouded in a sleepy state of forget. She forgets about the numbers written on her hand and takes a shower. After she has dried herself off, she regrets being in the water scrubbing away the memories of the night from her palm. Much more, she regrets not giving him enough reason to see her again.

* * *

He wants to see her again – her blonde hair and dark eyes. It is so very much unlike him to pine over a girl. She’s messing with his mind and he’s pretty sure she’s much more interesting while sober.

She hasn’t called and he wants to kick himself in the ass.

It’s isn’t like him to want to see a girl this much, he regrets not getting her number as an insurance.

* * *

  _At sixteen, when you’re at a gala, champagne is your friend. The shiny metal trays filled with expensive liquid confidence were all that Georgia went to galas for._

_“Georgie!”_

_She stops mid-sip of her new flute of champagne and turns to find Regulus sharply dressed in a suit. It is his grandparents’ silver anniversary._

_“Regulus! You look dapper. Dare I say, tell your grandmother that the champagne is divine.”_

_Georgia hates high society but she can forgive it for all its gossip and woes for a good flute of champagne._

_“Cut the crap, Georgie. I’ll get you a bottle when I sneak into the kitchen. There’s a cute server tonight.”_

_“Wonderful. You’re a lifesaver, Regulus. What sort of nonsense are we doing tonight?”_

_Between the two of them, Georgia looks up to Regulus for the fun things in life. Like stealing champagne from Mr. Black’s cellar or creating feedback when Sirius’ band was playing. God knows what they’ve called themselves now._ Something stupid, most probably, Georgia thinks.

_Regulus stops to look around the beautiful crowd of guests. “I think a trip through the coat hangers seems like a good idea.”_

* * *

Regulus mentions that she works at a third-wave coffee shop and he writes down the name of the shop and carefully tucks it in his pocket as a reminder. Most days, he thinks of song lyrics and guitar riffs but now, all he sees is golden sunlight and dark rain clouds.

He enters the shop, orders a cup of coffee, and that’s when he sees her.

She must have just finished her shift because she’s tucking away an apron into a cabinet behind the counter.

“Miss me already?” He tells her as he approaches the till where she is.

“Not really. How did you know I work here?” She’s genuinely curious. She never mentioned she worked at a coffee shop.

“I have my ways.”

She’s still curious at why he’s there in the coffee shop. “So _why_ are you here?”

“Can’t a devilishly handsome lad buy good coffee?”

He’s evading the question.

“But you never go here. You look like the Starbucks, second-wave coffee shop kind of sort.”

“Ouch, I feel judged. And for your information, I can bloody well go to any coffee shop I like.”

She smiles, surprisingly.

“No need to be defensive about it, Sirius. What do you want?”

“I just came here for the coffee.”

Lie. She knows he’s up to something.

“And you got your coffee. I’m leaving. I have lots of revising to do.” She adjusts her backpack on her shoulders and turns to leave.

“Let me walk you out.” He’s determined not to make her leave just yet.

They fall into an awkward silence as they exit the coffee shop. The bitterness of the autumn air hangs unpleasantly.

Sirius interrupts the silence. “You never called.”

“Was I supposed to? It’s my choice on whether or not I’ll call a person back.”

He’s strangely disappointed. “I guess I should market myself as a more appealing person to you, then.”

“Maybe you should. Or maybe I’m not interested. _At all_.” She’s never been the easy type and she’s always had her walls up even if he’s standing a wee bit too close to her for comfort. She won’t let herself lose this game too easily.

“Maybe you are, you’re just not giving in.”

“We’ll see. What’s in it for me?”

He tilts his head back and laughs. “Oh, honey. You sure you want to know?”

She tries to check herself if she blushes or not but she’s amused at his crassness and maybe it’s fun playing this game with him. She pulls her phone out and hands it to him.

“Number. I’ll call you when I want to play.” When he’s done typing in his number, she leaves without a second glance.

* * *

_Georgia knows she shouldn’t be diddling around with the Spanish ambassador’s son._ Though, Javier Suarez is absolutely delicious _, Georgia thinks. Gone were the days when he was lanky and awkward. In all respects, puberty was good to him._ And his hair, gosh. His _hair_ is even better than mine, _Georgia muses as she runs a hand through Javier’s chestnut colored shoulder-length hair. They are in one of the hotels they usually go to when they “hung out.”_

_She likes Javier simply because he gets the no-strings-attached thing they’ve got going on. Plus, he takes her to really expensive penthouses on most weekends and for a girl like Georgia, luxury was always a plus. She thinks a little bit of too much never harmed anyone. So why not?_

* * *

 James, the vocalist, says into the mic, “We are The Marauders. Good night.”

Sirius is all sweaty and pumped up with adrenaline but he’s been looking for his own brand of sunshine in the crowd and he hasn’t found her yet. He doesn’t even deny the fact that he’s looking for her because all throughout their set, in between looking at the guitar chords, he’s been looking really hard for her through the crowd of listeners.

“Hey, man. D’you reckon Romanova is still a better band name now that you seem less interested in the band and more interested in the crowd?”

Sirius stops tuning his guitar and looks up at James. “What?”

“It’s either your guitar chords were lost in the crowd or you’re looking for that fit bird you met the other week. Although, I can’t choose which one is your answer, it’s pretty difficult to figure out, mate.” James could be a sensible yet sarcastic son of a bitch sometimes. Sirius thinks this is why they’ve still been friends all these years. James knows what’s going on without Sirius even mentioning anything and he might just be a little grateful for it.

“She’s not here tonight. It’s Friday night.”

“So? Does that even matter?”

Sirius shrugs to keep his nonchalance in check. “Maybe. We’ll never know.”

* * *

Georgia knows she’s been too strung out to do anything but revise the past week. Maybe it’s also her way of pushing back a certain guy with a weird undercut from her mind. Between school and work, she tries to convince herself that she’s too busy to start playing the game again. _Maybe he’ll be different,_ a part of her says. She thinks about it for a while. What does she know of Sirius? His type seems like the usual type. The good-looking, woman-using type. Just like _him._ The last man she ever let in crushed her heart and spit it out into the ground only to step on it some more. She shakes her head at the thought of having to go through it again. Not this time. Not anymore.

* * *

Sirius isn’t used to waiting. Most girls would fall at his feet and try to grab his phone to put their number in it. Not Georgie. It’s been a week and she hasn’t called or texted him. He wonders what he has done wrong because all he’s been to her is his usual self – a little cocky but nice. Definitely nice. He even offered her some water when she was obviously tipsy out of her mind. Maybe, he thinks, this is what ugly boys felt like when they wanted a fit bird like Georgie.

So he smokes and smokes and smokes until he’s finished with his pack of Marlboros and his problem with Georgie still hasn’t gone away.

And then that’s when his phone rings.

He almost drops the cigarette but he manages to keep his cool. It could be anyone anyway, he tells himself. But after four rings, he finally gets to his phone and answers.

“Hey, is this Sirius?”

It’s her and he wonders why he never noticed how lovely her voice was. Maybe his head is hazy from smoking too much. He’s over the moon at the sound of her voice.

“Yeah. I presume this is the lovely Georgie from the pub who didn’t make an appearance this week.”

“Oh, so you’ve been waiting for me?”

Sirius tries to keep his cool. Surely he isn’t _that_ predictable.

“Maybe. We’ll never know. Lots of pretty blondes out there, you know.” There. Cool restored.

“Ah so you think I’m pretty.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, love.”

“I should be careful. I heard musicians are assholes.”

Sirius thinks he should be offended. _She’s right, though,_ he says at the back of his mind. He just needs an excuse to keep this conversation going so he says, “Oi, not _all_ musicians are assholes. Maybe you’ve just met a few rotten eggs, Georgie.”

Maybe she has, she thinks but she doesn’t want to let him know that.

“I don’t think so. I was thinking of you when I said that.”

“Well, I’m touched.” Sirius pauses. “So when do you want to hang out?”

* * *

_The Annual Huntington Polo Club dinner was a bust._

_Sirius would like to think that the fact that his band was playing tonight was going to save the night. Or maybe that was the champagne talking._ Pussy juice _, Sirius thinks to himself as he takes another sip of the golden liquid._

_“Remus, what time are we playing?” He asks as he spots his brother, Regulus, with his mysterious friend, Georgie._

_Remus looks around and sees Sirius eyeing the two. “No time to flirt, mate. We’re up next,” he says as he nods his head towards the stage. “After all these months, you still haven’t talked to her?”_

_“Who?” Sirius tries to hide his embarrassment. He knows he’s fit, good-looking, and capable enough to drop down the panties of any girl he pleases. But for some reason, Regulus’ friend, Georgie, hasn’t been on his list of ladies he’s snagged and shagged._

_“Don’t act stupid. It’s no secret you’ve changed since you saw her snogging Brent in the gardens six months ago.”_

_Sirius isn’t sure if he’s annoyed at Remus or at the truth or both. “I was a_ virgin _six months ago, mate. Aside from that, I haven’t changed. Not one bit.”_

_“Say that to your hair that you’ve been growing out and your,” Remus smiles tiredly, “newly-found bed-hopping skills. It’s a wonder they allow you inside college with that horrendous hair of yours. Get a haircut, mate. You look homeless.”_

_He’s really annoyed at this point. “Sod off, mate. No girl can change me. And mind you, grunge is_ back _, so sod the fuck off.”_

_Remus laughs quietly because this isn’t the first time he’s ticked  Sirius off. “Whatever you say, man. Whatever you say.”_

* * *

It is during one of Javier and Georgia’s adventures to the dank underground of London when they met trouble.

The Shrieking Shack is an underground bar hidden behind a wine shop. Technically, it is still part of the wine shop but it was hidden behind a wall. Sadly, there was no password, much to Georgia’s dismay. It would have made it exponentially cooler if it did.

It is pretty spacious for a bar that shouldn’t even be on the grid. An art gallery, a bar, and a stage take up most of the space. It’s a weird mix of gritty and high-brow culture that seemed to be aspired by many people from the circle Georgia is in. Javier’s use to Georgia wasn’t just a physical one. He was a master of knowledge of underground London and Georgia is grateful for that.

Javier pays for the custom-made cocktails and locally brewed beer they’ll try tonight. Georgia doesn’t even check the menu because Javier knows the good stuff and she trusts him on his choice of liquor.

“D’you reckon some ginger brew would be good in a drink? They’re mixing it with some vodka and god knows what. Will it be good, aye?” Georgia overhears the lady in the next table. She seems to be too overdressed in a tight-fitting sequin-clad dress and heels for such a laid-back bar such as The Shrieking Shack.

Her friend replies, “Daphne, the drinks aren’t overpriced because they’re shitty. They only serve _good_ stuff here.”

Daphne huffs. “Fine. But if I burn my credit card on some herbal-tasting shit tonight, I’ll have a fit when I’m sober enough to be a bitch again.”

Her friend laughs. “And when are you ever not a bitch, Daphne?”

“I’m not a bitch when I’m drunk, Millicent. I’m _zen_ as a river.”

“Zen? You’re the angriest drunk I’ve ever known. Don’t even forget when Draco had to pin you down--and this isn’t the kind of pinning down you want, you know--two weeks ago? At Regulus’ party.”

Georgia knows she shouldn’t be eavesdropping. But if the Regulus they’re talking about is the same Regulus Black who threw one heck of a party two weeks ago then Georgia ought to listen.

Daphne face contorts in confusion. “I have no memory of that so it’s not true.”

“Oh, but it is true. If I weren’t there to pin you down, you would have beaten up dear Astoria. And we wouldn’t want to scratch that pretty face of yours, huh, Daphne?” Their friend, Draco says.

Daphne dismisses him with a resigned wave. She smiles at the newcomer who was walking towards them.

He approaches them with a large black guitar case in hand and a grin etched on his face.

“Speaking of pretty faces, why are you here, dear cousin?” He says.

“Can’t I listen to my best friend’s band play on a Friday night?”

“How’d you know we were playing?” He sets down his guitar and notices Georgia staring. Javier went out to god knows where and Georgia has no buffer to hide her embarrassment. So she just stares back in defiance. And hey, he’s pretty cute.

Daphne taps the screen on her mobile phone. “It’s called the internet, Crabbe. Avada’s twitter account said you’ll be having a gig tonight. Didn’t say where but we figured it out.”

The man whose name is apparently _Crabbe_ smiles at the direction of Georgia. “I never knew we had a twitter account but I’m sure glad about the turn out for tonight.”

* * *

Midnight has always meant trouble. Javier is starting to get too handsy, the ladies in the next table were drunk with their ginger liquor, and the drummer of the band playing just hit the vocalist with one of the drum sticks.

First. “Let’s get out of this shithole, Georgie,” he whispers to her ear while making a point to lick her earlobe.

“Not yet, Javier. They’re not yet done playing.” She creates distance between them and wipes off his spit.

Second. “Fuck you, Goyle! You’re a sodding pig for screwing me and then screwing me over!” Daphne shouts and marches off to the stage, leaving a worried and confused Millicent in tow.

The band’s guitarist, Marcus, stops playing and says to the mic, “What the fuck?” And looks at Goyle and then at Daphne.

The drummer, Goyle, takes notice of the scene and says into the mic, “You _fucked_ my girlfriend?”

Third. Goyle throws a drumstick straight at the back of the Marcus’ head. “You wanker!” And he lunges fists first at Marcus.

The crowd finally takes notice. They give way to the two men pounding fists at each other at the edge of the stage.

Crabbe tries to break them up. “Stop that, oi! Talk this out with your brains, not your fists!”

No one pays him attention.

“You said you’ll just drive her home because she was too drunk, asshole!” The Marcus screams as he loads a punch on Goyle’s jaw.

“She said you broke up!” He shouts back as he tackles him to the floor. “Astoria also said that the morning after!”

Crabbe’s eyes go wide. “You fucked my best friend?!” And dives into the floor at them.

* * *

Javier goes back to the hotel with another girl. Georgia couldn’t care less but what she cares about is the state of the three boys who are all now bloodied up and bruised. Daphne is crying. The best friend, Astoria, is shouting at the three.

Quite an interesting night, Georgia thinks. She goes back to sipping her drink, waiting for whatever unfolds next.

* * *

“You should know when to leave a guy, you know.”

Crabbe, holding a glass of ice to his face, takes the seat opposite Georgia.

“You should know when to leave a band,” she replies.

He tries to smile but winces at the pain. “Good one. I think this will be our last show seeing how things went.”

“That’s a shame. You had a good set back there.” Georgia motions to the stage littered with discarded guitars and drum sticks.

“Sorry about all that. That doesn’t usually happen during our shows.”

“Too bad. I was enjoying it.” Georgia sips her drink tentatively.

“Tell you what, I’ll make it up to you for all the shit that happened tonight.”

Georgia wasn’t expecting him to say that.

“I’m Crabbe. Er, Vincent Crabbe. I’ll take you out to dinner and then let’s talk about that asshole you were with.” He holds his hand out as an invitation. For what exactly, Georgia wasn’t sure. She accepts and takes his held out hand anyway. Georgia wasn’t sure what was going to happen next but she was willing to find out. It was time to move on, since Javier’s time in her life (and on her bed) had already run out.

She takes his hand and says, “Georgia. Let’s go celebrate our newly-found freedom.”

* * *

Sirius Black doesn’t usually “hang out.” Hanging out with girls mostly meant stumbling into his Range Rover and driving near speed limit to his flat. What happens next is completely understandable.

This One’s name is Kelly. Or was it Claire? Or Maggie? _Whatever._

Sirius is sure she introduced herself before she clung on to him the whole night. She looks good and her being with Sirius just made her look better. All is fair. She’s just doing Sirius a favor. She thanks him by taking her clothes off. And his, too. Standard procedure.

As soon as Sirius slips the key into the lock and slips inside his flat, this One is already all over him. Sloppy kisses, One’s back against the wall, then of course, fumbling to the bed. Or the couch. Or wherever.

This One, like the rest of them, slips away almost as soon as the sun rises. This One isn’t any different. A note with her number and a “call me _xx_ ” is on Sirius’ bedside table. Obviously, that note goes straight into the bin without a second glance. “Snag and shag” is the philosophy, so why complicate it?

* * *

The bar, Hog’s Head, is perfect for photos. Yellow light seems to bring out the best in everyone, Georgia thinks.

So she minds the way Crabbe’s brows crinkle in concentration as he takes photos of the place. He’s looking at the photo of the chandelier made up of old sarsaparilla bottles and he slowly looks up and smiles at Georgia.

She notices how his arms flex as he holds the camera and how his shirt just looks amazing on him. She reckons she wants to brush his hair against his forehead so she can see his lovely blue eyes.

Georgia’s stomach drops a little and she winces.

“Are you okay, love?” Crabbe asks.

She clutches her stomach as if that would help. “Yeah, I’m alright. _Peachy._ ”

“Well, we’ve got loads to do tonight so let’s go, Peach. This place is beautiful.” He walks a few steps ahead of her and stops to look back at her. The yellow light filtering through the whole place and illuminating her face with radiance.

“Just like you, Peach. Just like you,” Crabbe says as their hands interlock and he smiles like he’s so sure of what he said.

* * *

_He’s pacing along the sidewalk. She wishes she could love him as surely as his steps on the pavement. She wishes she could love him with purpose just like how he’s maintaining his balance despite his drunkenness and anger._

_He’s been walking ahead of her for the past half hour. His strides are in a jutting rhythm that only Georgia can describe as unpredictable. She hopes to have more time with him but he’s too angry to even look at her. Time is a frightful thing when it comes to him. It seems like time melts at his touch. Maybe he made time fall in love with him as well so he can control it like what he’s doing with her._

_She wishes she could love him slowly._

_Sometimes, she wishes she didn’t love him at all._

* * *

_When his new band's record deal pushes through and the apartment is bare, Georgia only knows the end._

_Although, she admits that she should have left earlier._

_She should have left when another woman’s perfume wafted through the apartment hallway one too many times. But she turned a blind eye. Always a blind eye._

_Love makes you stupid. Such was the pronounce of her friends. But love doesn’t make you listen to anyone, she reminds herself._

_Her clothes are spilling out of her luggage and she knows it’s time._

_Leaving was easy but unlearning? No one ever told her how difficult it was to forget._

* * *

In the haze of heartache and bad decisions, Georgia finds herself in suspicious glasses of alcohol and even more suspicious men. All is well when you don’t give a fuck anymore.

She signs up for a dance class, finds a job in a hipster coffee shop that was too pretentious for her taste, and tries to forget.

The pub a few blocks away was her small respite.

She just didn’t know Sirius Black would stir up a familiar feeling inside her.

Maybe she was lonely.

Or maybe it was time to start learning again.


End file.
